A New Year / A New Day

As usual I spent a lot of time thinking about what my goals were going to be for the New Year.  2015 was going to start with a whole host of goals, most of which probably avoided the larger questions about my life, but they were good.  They were quantifiable.  They were measurable.  They were recordable on a spread sheet.  These are the kinds of goals I love.

They weren’t wishy-washy, ill-defined things like, I will be more creative in 2015.  Or I will read more in 2015.  Or I will eat healthier in 2015.  No, these things were specific.  These things were not negotiable.

So, for your viewing pleasure, here is what I set out for myself to accomplish in 2015:

1. Read 100 books
2. Read 365 essays
3. Star using Goodreads again to track my books read and to write reviews of all my books read
4. Join weight watchers and lose 30 lbs (I know this is a little TMI, but it is a goal, and I am looking for honesty and accountability here.) (Dr. visit the last week of December 2014 was the precipitating event, with a choice between more diabetes medication or losing the weight. I asked the Dr. to give me three months to see if I could take the weight off.)
5. Increase my blog posting to a blog post a week. 52 blog posts this year.

So, almost a month in to 2015, how am I doing?

Well, not to be immodest, but I am doing pretty well.  I am on track to accomplish all of the goals except one.   And, it is probably the most visible of all of my 2015 goals.  I have yet to write or post a blog post.  My little schedule of Wednesday blog posts, one a week for the entire year is already shot.

If I stumble in my other goals, if I fall behind on reading, or plateau or gain a couple of pounds…what will I do…well…I think I will do what it takes to get back on track.  I will not make excuses.  So. That is what I will do with my blog posts.   I will write and share and post and I will get caught up.

So, I plan to write about what I am reading, what I am learning, about my travels, about my writing, about addiction and being an AA Atheist.

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My Trip to Venice Beach: The Land of Scary Clowns

In November I went to a convention in Santa Monica.  We stayed in a hotel right at the beach in Venice Beach.  I was lucky to have a traveling companion who knew the area well and was confident driving in LA traffic and between our hotel and the Unitarian Universalist Church in Santa Monica where the convention was held.

The hotel we stayed at was the Cadillac Hotel.  It was moderately priced (for the location).  And it was…well it was clean and comfortable.  “No-frills.”  Looking out to see the beach and the ocean from the hotel room window,  I nearly fell out of the window and barely caught my glasses, flying off the top of my head in mid-air.  Still, I could hear the waves from the room.

Part of the charm of the hotel of course was the activity on Venice Beach.  There were people skating and running and walking by at all hours of the night and day.   There were people selling things and creating things and lounging and resting and sleeping.  It was a delightful carnival of humanity.

My traveling companion and I were interested in an artist who paints clowns.  He paints scary clowns on the sides of buildings, on the street where cracks in the pavement provided a perfectly shaped canvas. Just about anywhere in a four block area around the Cadillac Hotel that was free contained some of his clowns.  When we found the artist, Vincent, my friend commissioned him to do a painting for her on canvas.  She gave him $10 to buy the canvas and 24 hours to create the painting.  She told him she would be back the next morning with another $30 when she picked up the painting.

Meanwhile, I was taking pictures of Vincent’s paintings all over the place.  I was intrigued and a little scared.

In the morning when we walked to breakfast we passed a CVS store that was adorned with its own scary clown.   This was not a clown painted by Vincent, rather it was a huge clown statue that looked like a relic from another time.  This whole scary clown thing didn’t make any sense to me, but was interesting.

The next morning we found Vincent, and asked if he had made a painting for my friend.  Uhhhmmmm…not exactly.  She was gracious about it and they parted on good terms.  I asked if I could take a few pictures of him and some of his art.  He was friendly and fairly amenable.  He posed for me, and when I asked if I could take a picture of his chair, he said yes.  He was working on painting a skull when we caught up with him, and seemed pleased to show us what he was doing.

 

Vincent is also known as Enzo and you can read a fascinating chapter about him in the book Homeless in Paradise: Communicating with the Bohemian Venice Beach Subculture by William O’Connell.  Chapter 12 is entitled Clowning Around with the Popular Unforgettable Artist…Vincent.

 

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How I Spent My Summer Vacation #3: Oklahoma City Part 2

After I had the moving experience of being in that church, that sanctuary, that sacred space that the artists and the planners had created, The Oklahoma City National Memorial & Museum, I went outside of that space to see what individuals have left to memorialize the victims and the survivors of the bombing.

 

Here are some images of the things that I found most poignant outside, on the wall, which was another kind of space, gallery, and place for expressions of grief.

 

How I Spent My How I Spent My Summer Vacation #1: Archer City, TexasSummer Vacation #1: Archer City, Texas

One of the stops on our trip to Minnesota was Archer City, Texas.  Have you ever heard of it?  Well, I hadn’t either, but my husband recently read Books: A Memoir by Larry McMurtry and learned about his used and rare bookstore there:  Booked Up!

Booked Up #1, Archer City, Texas

Well, of course since Texas is such a small state, and there was a good chance we would be going through Texas on the way toMinnesota from Arizona, it was a “must-see.”

I am not going to say it was hot there…I mean it was July inTexas.  What do you expect?  I will say that when we got back to the car after a tour of the four buildings the bookstore is housed in, the thermometer in the car, which measures the outside temperature said 116 degrees. After I ran the car engine and the air conditioner a little while it dropped to 114, so I really can’t be sure how accurate that thermometer is, but I do know that it was (ArcherCity) Texas in July.

The Annex, Archer City, Texas

There are a whole lot of books in the four buildings that make up Booked Up!  The spaces are filled with floor to ceiling bookshelves and considering the size of the collection, they were mostly shelved where they ought to be.  There are also shelves and shelves and shelves of books that have yet to be categorized and shelved in the appropriate buildings and shelves. 

My husband seemed please to have had the experience of Booked Up! And I was surprised that he only purchased 2 books.  I think it had something to do with the heat, because in spite of the fact that there were air conditioners chugging away in most of the spaces, they just couldn’t keep up. 

Booked Up #4,, A whole lotta books!

While he was paying for the books and chatting with the employees in building number one I was sitting in the car, trying to cool off.  He learned that McMurtry is still buying collections and is still bringing books into Archer City, even though there doesn’t seem to be room for another volume anywhere. 

Me trying to look interested and not too sweaty.

Another off the beaten path pilgrimage for the Richards family. ArcherCity…I would suggest visiting in a month other than July!

Is It Camp or Is It College?

I had a great time at sleep-over camp when I was between 6^th and 7^th grade.  It was the only time I ever went to sleep-over camp, but I also enjoyed the many years I attended our Unitarian Universalist day-camp.  When I sent my own son off to camp, I think I was a lot more excited than he was.  He had a good time, but never wanted to return.  (Kind of like when my little sister was finally cajoled into trying jelly on her toast: ”Yeah, I like it, but I don’t want any more.”)

 

I also had an awesome time when I went to visit a local college for a couple of days with several of my high school friends.  We were released from school for a few days and got to hang around a college campus and smoke in public.  We also attended some classes and some of the question and answer sessions the college had prepared for us and looked around the library and some of the classroom buildings and the student union.

 

Today I am off for a week to what I have been thinking of as “Library Camp”.  I am as excited as I was then.  No one is sewing tags with my name on them into all of my clothes, and back then I didn’t have to worry that the website that is supposed to have the final schedule for the week is “temporarily not showing documents” and has been “temporarily not showing documents” since it was posted at 11:00 a.m. yesterday.  I am also not boarding a bus; I am driving myself the approximately350 milesand wondering if fires in the area will close the highway.  Back then I didn’t have to worry about special diets or medications or bringing the proper cords and cables for my laptop and cell phone and Kindle. 

 

This time I don’t have to worry about bunk mates, or even cabin mates.  I have a single in the dorm, which I never had when I lived in the dorm in college, so this is luxury living!  I only have to share the bathroom with one other person.  No problem.  But I am having trouble keeping myself under control with the packing.  I want all the luxuries of home with me in my little dorm room. (Which conveniently has a mini fridge and it was suggested that I bring an ice bucket).  I used to keep my bottle of bourbon in between the double window in my dorm room back in 1974.  Since all I drink is water these days, I am bringing a couple of extra gallons with me.

 

I am actually off to the Arizona State Library Summer Library Institute at NAU (NorthernArizonaUniversity) inFlagstaff.  This Institute is “to provide professional development training for library staff who do not have a Master’s degree in Library Science and who work in predominantly rural areas of the state.  This Institute provides participants with training on a variety of topics related to their work and that increases their job skills and knowledge.”

 

I will be posting fromFlagstaffabout this wonderful opportunity during the week.  First though, I have to figure out if I need to pack some posters for my dorm room and some high protein snacks to get me through the long days this week.

It Has Been Quiet at the Richards House

Cambridge

It has been pretty quiet at our house for the last couple of weeks.  (And, I don’t mean just since Rod left for the PSWD Minister’s retreat on Monday.)  No, it was quiet even when we were both here.  I guess it has something to do with the end of Sabbatical Summer 2010.  I think we have both been caught up in the end of one thing and the beginning of another. 

Kew Garden

I can’t speak for Rod, but I know for myself there has been a lot of reflection around what I did and didn’t accomplish this summer.  There has been a gradual reengagement into my “real life.”  I don’t actually start back to work until next Monday, but I have been working on blog posts for the library for the last couple of weeks, and I have been at the library nearly every day, talking to my co-workers and checking the shelves for new titles and making lists of books I want to read, and books I want to blog about.   (I have come full circle and after a summer away, I am making lists again.)

I have been washing clothes and blankets. Putting the fans up in the attic, taking down the space heaters.  Putting the tent and the beach umbrella away.  Thinking about packing my lunch every day.  Transitioning from summer to fall. 

Natural History Museum

I have been thinking about the journey that I took this summer, both the actual journey and the virtual one. About the people I saw and spent time with, and those I didn’t.  Some of the things I saw and did this summer were disappointments; some were better than I could have possibly imagined.

Rod and I have both been quiet; both of us processing in our own ways.  We both have been reading and watching movies like crazy (both of which are solitary endeavors in our household); aware that our time for these relaxing occupations will be substantially limited when we go back to work.  I have taken to checking books made out of paper and board out of the library again.  I still love my Kindle, but have decided I can read ebooks and paper books, because it is the story, not the platform that makes it a book. Both of us seem to be searching for some sort of conclusions.  (Perhaps the expectation for a tidy ending is the curse of readers of fiction in general and mysteries in particular..) 

Highgate Cemetary

What did I learn?  What would I do differently if I could have a do-over? What will I do if I have another chance?  Did I see what I wanted to see, do what I wanted to do?  Did I write as much as I wanted?  Did I read as much as I wanted?  Did I see enough castles?  Did I take enough pictures?   

How different was the reality from the expectation?  Why do I feel so blocked in my efforts to express myself?  Will I continue to write and take photographs now that Sabbatical Summer 2010 is nearly at an end? 

I do want to thank everyone who read this blog and everyone who posted comments.  It was gratifying, and I hope that some parts of it were interesting to you.  I am not exactly sure what direction this blog will take now that our Sabbatical is about to be officially over, but I suspect I will continue to post here or somewhere.  (I don’t believe you have yet seen all the pictures I took of the Amsterdam Public Library!!!)

Stonehenge

Wild Birds (or more accurately, just Birds)

A swan in Stratford Upon Avon

No one would ever accuse me of being a “nature girl”.  No one would ever guess that the binoculars I inherited from my mother are ever used for anything but watching the neighbors.  I have no pets…fish or fowl, canine or feline.  But it is not like I am anti-nature or anything like that. 

In fact under the right conditions I can actually enjoy a little nature.  One of those occasions was when we stayed in Stratford Upon Avon.  (I always thought it was Stratford On Avon, which just goes to show you what my public school education was like, or possibly the quality of my attention to detail). 

Swans Upon the Avon

Stratford Upon Avon was one of my “I am exhausted and I can’t do another touristy thing”days.  So when Rod went off to find out information about plays and tours, I plopped myself down on a bench and watch the swans paddle about on the Avon.  (The hotel we stayed in was called: The White Swan Hotel, but of course when I made the reservations so many months before, I had no idea why that name would be so appropriate, including how close to the Avon and the swans we would actually be.)

Wild Bird

I spent a couple of hours doing nothing but trying to get good shots of the multitudinous swans, geese, coots, ducks and other waterfowl, but the swans were the main attraction for me.  They are graceful and social and made for an absolutely pleasant diversion.  And I watched lots of people on the riverbank and on bridges, feeding the swans, as well the more aggressive of the ducks and geese. (These swans were hardly fending for themselves. They were fat and sassy, and accepted every handout greedily.) 

Swan at Stratford Upon Avon

It was impossible not to think about the stories and songs that feature swans, and it was not hard to see why they have captured the imagination of so many over the centuries.

We ARE a Welcoming Congregation

Way back at the beginning of the summer, I attended General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association in Minneapolis. I may or may not have promised to come back to that later, but I know in my mind I had every intention of returning to that subject.

So now, almost three months later, I want to start by telling a short but meaningful (to me) story about my General Assembly experience.

When you check in, you are given a name badge, some ribbons and some cards that send you to various booths in the vendor area to pick up additional ribbons and pins.  (For example I went to one booth that was representing the host city for the next General Assembly and picked up a pin celebrating the 50 years since the merger of Unitarianism and Universalism.  (see picture) (There will be some information about the merger in the sermon Whose Are We? that Rod is preparing for October 3, 2010)

I was disappointed but not surprised that I did not get a ticket for my Welcoming Congregation ribbon.  We had sent in our application for approval during the spring, and as I recall we received our letter of approval days if not hours before we left for General Assembly.  I was wandering around the vendor hall (and there will be a blog post about that as well) and noticed the booth that had the ribbons for Welcoming Congregation.  I talked to the woman at the booth, and explained my situation.  Our congregation had received approval for Welcoming Congregation, but probably not in time to get a ribbon in the registration materials.  She looked at my badge, which in addition to my name says “UU Church of Southeastern Arizona, Sierra Vista, AZ.” 

There was instant recognition in her eyes and she said, “Oh yes, I processed your application, of course you can have a ribbon.”  So, for the first time in my General Assembly experience I proudly wore my Welcoming Congregation ribbon.  I was very proud to be a member of this congregation who worked so hard to becoming a Welcoming Congregation and I hope this is a ministry that we will continue to proclaim and support from this point forward. (Be sure to stay tuned for more information about our Coming Out Sunday which is planned for October 17, 2010)

The Things They Carried by guest blogger Rod Richards

First of all: apologies to Tim O’Brien.  I begin with the disclaimer that I am not even attempting to do justice to his book that bore this title.  And if you have not yet read it, do yourself a favor and get a copy.

With that said, though this blog post is far different in subject matter than O’Brien’s book, I cannot escape the aptness of the phrase to describe my impressions of two museums we visited in one day in Amsterdam.

We had split it so that we were going to visit a museum that I had chosen first (The Bible Museum) and the museum that Hanje had selected next (The Museum of Bags and Purses).  It worked out well as they were not far from one another.

Among the things that I carried that day were the expectations that the Bible Museum would be something of a profound and inspiring experience, while the Museum of Bags and Purses would be a mildly amusing diversion.

It’s hard to say what exactly I expected the Bible Museum to be, but it is safe to say that I was somewhat puzzled by what it is.  First, much of what the visitor sees has little to do with the Bible, but rather focuses on the history of the striking canal house and its features (Left and Right Garden Room; Great and Small Kitchen) in which the museum resides.  Nothing necessarily wrong with that; I’m just reminded of Jesus questioning the expectations of those who were curious about John the Baptist.  “What did you come to see?” he asks.  Well, if you were coming to the Bible Museum you most likely came to see: Bibles or Bible-related material  And, in fairness, there are a few  Bibles in the aptly named Bible Room, while the other rooms host such things as a model of the Mosaic Tabernacle which the founder of the museum worked on for 23 years; “aroma cabinets” where one can smell things that are mentioned in the sacred Scripture; and a garden that hosts trees, plants, and flowers that are also noted in the Bible, though some of the texts seemed a bit vague to me. 

Maybe it was the seemingly scattered, irritatingly eccentric nature of the presentation, walking by “a sleeping Venus with her Cupids” in plasterwork on the way to sniff some frankincense.  Maybe it was the obsessive quality of the exhibits—the “life’s work” tabernacle project and the annotated garden.  Maybe it was the assumption that I should care about an aroma or a plant or a sort of clunky pre-Leggo construction simply because they were mentioned in the Bible…Whatever it was, by the time I left the Temple Mount Room with the display that showed how three religions claimed the same space and the video interviews with representatives of these three faiths that made it clear that there would be no peace as long as these religions believe that their Scriptures have promised it to the chosen people (the chosen people being, of course, the people that included whatever person was talking at the time)…By the time I left there, I was thoroughly depressed and dared to wish that there was no such thing as a New Testament, or a Qur’an, or a Torah, or a Tabernacle…no such thing as a Bible.  As long as people carried their sense of entitlement with a Divine Seal of Approval; as long as they carried their sacredly inspired prejudice; as long as they carried their damned certainty, what hope did we all have for the future?

I felt my opportunity for inspiration had been cruelly thwarted and I allowed as to how it might be attributable to my own bad attitude.  I welcomed some mild diversion so imagine my surprise when I walked into the Museum of Bags and Purses and quickly found myself…moved, awestruck, inspired!

I don’t know how to explain it exactly.  Some of it may have had to do with the precise focus of the museum (you guessed it: bags and purses)

 and yet the awesome span of history that the exhibits covered, exquisitely organized, clearly and concisely explained.  Some of it may have had to do with the jaw-dropping creativity and artistry of the people who had conceived and constructed these items, using seashells and velvet, melon seeds and cactus fibre, glass beads and pearls, and on and on.  Some of it may have had to do with the recognition of a human trait (e.g. we carry things) and the way we respond to that trait (e.g. we create something that is not only practical, but beautiful, comical, quirky, expressive).  There was one bag made of particles nearly as tiny as grains of sand.  Another, most likely carried by wealthier women of the 1600s, bore the message: “Remember the pore.”  And though I know that bags and purses are all tied up in class and politics and injustice just like every other thing we may own or want to own, I couldn’t help but feel buoyed by this panoramic view of how it is that we humans carry things.  As I viewed one pouch, worn under the skirt and meant to hold a Bible ever near to the woman that wore it, I thought to myself that what mattered was how we carried things.  How to carry a Bible?  With arrogance and ugliness and provocation?  Or with humility and reserve and beauty?   The history of humanity is a history of what it is that we cherish and choose to carry with us and what we learn to release are willing to lay down.  The creativity, the artistry, the imagination, the silliness, the beauty and the possibility are what I carried away from this museum.

And look at that; I carried them all the way home.

Back in Bisbee But the Sabbatical Isn’t Over Yet!

Stonehenge

We are back home in Bisbee now, but there are so many things to share, that this Sabbatical Summer Blog will continue, at least for the immediate future.  And, of course, the Sabbatical is not over.  Today is the first day of September and that means that we are just 2/3rds of the way through Sabbatical Summer 2010. 

So, the traveling part of the sabbatical is over, but there is still much to report from this month of “staycation.”

There will be more of my reflections and photographs, and I think I can even promise a few guest blog posts from Rod.  I will also be catching you up on what I have been reading this summer (some of which will be posted at my Natural Selections blog). 

So, don’t give up on us yet.  We had a long drive, and lots of clothes to wash and groceries to buy, but we are getting settled and will be back on a more regular basis.